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Paris Wiltin’

Here’s the view from my front porch in a few years.

Well, it was nice being a superpower once.

Back what feels like a thousand years ago by now, my initial biggest concern with worst thing to ever happen in human history, other than the ominous signs of a coming authoritarian rule, was the irreparable damage to the environment president Putin was certain to cause. While his witless cronie Trump’s dismantling of the EPA and the flooding of his cabinet with oil, coal, and gas moguls seemed poised to ruin life on earth swiftly enough, Czar Putin’s puppet is now taking his sacred mission to destroy the planet a step further.

Standing in the White House rose garden, which will likely need to be replaced with plastic flowers in the next few years, Trump attempted his best Mussolini impression (if only he’d end up like him) and dramatically blustered that the U.S. was withdrawing from the Paris Climate Agreement, to an unenthusiastic smattering of applause from an almost certainly paid staff audience, which Trump stopped to bask in for several seconds before continuing, the fuckin narcissistic cunt.

Putin’s bitch prattled on like the senile old dunce he is for what felt like hours, after announcing that alongside other progressive and scientifically literate countries like Syria, America has decided to turn their red white, and blue backs on the other 190-something countries that have signed the landmark agreement. Forget just the Middle East, let’s go to war with the entire planet’s ecosystem. To quote George Washington, “America, fuck yeah!”

Predictably, such shocking disregard for the global environment has officially made the United States a pariah in the international community. After several keg stands, even former president of Ireland Mary Robinson commented that Trump’s decision had turned the U.S. into a “rogue state. Then in true Irish diplomatic tradition, she threw up all over the floor and passed out.

And you know it’s gotten really bad when the goddamn Queen of France or whoever has the ovaries to talk shit to us. But sadly, France’s new leader Emmanuel Macron actually came off looking like the new leader of the Free World after Turmp’s whirlwind tour of international fuckfacery. The guy bogarted their handshake like he was Zeus from “No Hold Barred”, then told the press straight up that he did it on purpose. After this hideous announcement, he immediately made a video chastising our Puppet-in-Chief’s actions, and not the millions of U.S. citizens helpless to stop his rampaging imbecility. Sheeeit, besides Tony Parker and Pepé Le Pew, this guy’s become my favorite Frenchman of all-time. I gotta admit though, great as his speech was (I especially like the, “Make the planet great again” line), that French accent just sounds so damn faggy. I can’t take anything those frogs say seriously, least of all tough-talk.

What should be taken serious however is the rest of the world’s indifference to President Cry Baby’s bawlings. Macron even stated in no uncertain terms that there would be no leaving the pact for America and no new negotiations. Hell yea. That’s tellin’ ’em Frenchy. He also astutely reminded Trump that America can’t do what his dad should have done seventy years ago and pull out until the day after the 2020 election, which thankfully will be long after Trump’s severed head is stuck on a flag pole in Times Square.

Along with France, Germany, and Great Britain, the two other big nations combining to usurp America’s abandoned leadership role on climate change will be goddamn China and India of all places. Of fuckballs, not those genius muthafuckas with the sweatshop work ethic. If we let those billions of bastards get in the lead on climate technology, we’ll never get it back. I heard one pundit put it rather plainly, “Get ready to buy nothing but Chinese solar panels from Home Depot in about ten years.”

That’s another ozone layer-sized hole in Trump’s argument. He says his decision is all about protecting American jobs, yet solar and wind technology are undoubtedly the wave of the future. Trump’s still trying to keep fuckin coal mining jobs. That’s like shutting down Ford plants to go open up more horse and buggy factories. Some dude on TV said (so it must be true) that there’s about 70,000 coal mining jobs in the U.S., versus hundreds of thousands in the growing solar and wind fields. Jesus, even like fifty giant corporations including fuckin GE and Exxon are against Trump’s decision because of the jobs it will kill. When quarterly profits-obsessed CEO’s are calling you shortsighted, you know it’s a problem.

Worst of all Trump’s wasting his time with this job-protecting baloney. Camouflaging rampant, suicidal idiocy as ensuring job security doesn’t matter one iota to his beloved Trumpster fires. Whatever he says goes. At a pro-Trump hootenanny in front of the White House (where’s a suicide bomber when you need one?), a reporter asked exactly the sort of scholarly gentleman you would imagine a Trump voter to look like about his lord and savior’s actions today. The overall-clad hayseed spit a huge glob of chewing tobacco into a nearby spittoon and drawled, “Well he’s ageenst the Paris ‘greement. Which I ‘gree with too.” Do ya you fuckin mongoloid? And if Trump was for the Paris “‘greement” you’d be fuckin for it. Do you even know what the fuck the Paris Agreement is? Do you even know where the fuck Paris is?

Trump keeps calling any criticism of his disastrous policies or obvious Russian influence a “witch hunt.” Okay, fine. Then let’s tie a huge stone to the cocksucker and toss him in the ocean to see if he floats. Or pour a bucket of water on him and see if he melts. Boiling hot, scalding water. And a huge-ass bucket.

Barring those spectacular circumstances I suppose we’ll just have to await Trump’s inevitable trial, conviction, and execution for treason instead. In true reality game show fashion, they should let America vote on the means of execution too. Personally, I can’t wait for the long overdue comeback of the dignified and noble tradition of firing squads. I just started taking shooting lessons at a local gun range in case there’s a way to win such a grand prize in some sorta sweepstakes. That would be my “Catcher in the Rye” job. I even went down to a nearby prison to get an application, and was struck by the very first question:

If the rest of the firing squad all called out sick with carpal tunnel syndrome in their trigger fingers, and Hitler, Bin Laden, and Trump were all set to be executed on the same day, but you only had two bullets, what would you do?